One 2x4 at a Time

"We are not special needs parents because we have special needs children. We are regular people who have become better human beings because of our special needs children."

~ Author Unknown

That quote doesn't suit me yet, and I'm figuring out how to get there. For a very long time, I feel like I've put the most basic things about me aside to work on goals I wanted to achieve. Weird huh? Sounds like nonsensical mess, and reads that way too. I'm going to try my best to put it into words. Maybe I'll be able to understand it then, let alone anyone who might read this.

There are certain things I've wanted to achieve as long as I can remember. I wanted to graduate high school. Check. Join the Army. Check. Deploy overseas so I can be of service to my brothers and sisters in arms later. Check. Get my Ph.D. in the mental health field. Check. Become a therapist. Check. Become Clinical Director. Check. I wanted to, at one point, join the FBI and be like Clarice Starling in The Silence of the Lambs. Nope. Did not check that box. For good reason. A poker face is not something I've ever had. Hannibal Lecter or his equivalent would've seen right through me. Really... if someone's paid any attention at all, what I think or feel is often written right there on my face. There's a reason I've never learned how to play poker. I barely manage to control my face when I dislike someone. Get married. Check. Have two kids. Check and double check. Travel everywhere. Well... working on that one. Can you really ever see everywhere?

I'm proud of those accomplishments. I have been fortunate enough to have a family and a husband that has supported me through three degrees, so much studying, and endless writing. Rob should have his own Ph.D. because he figured out how to keep me going enough to get it done and not quit when all of my motivation was lost. Seriously, he should have one too. When I was a teen my dad told me, and I'm paraphrasing, "I'm stopping at my Masters. I'm leaving the Doctorate for you." Challenge accepted! I'm proud of the fact that I'm the first female in my family to serve in the military and deploy to a combat zone. I'm proud of the fact that I'm the first in my family to achieve a doctoral degree.

Internally, there is still work to be done. I still allow my own inner critic to run the show a lot more often than I'd like to admit. My inner critic has been loud and powerful my whole life, and to some degree I think it is the reason I pushed myself so hard to achieve my dreams. Once I met those marks though, I was left with an emptiness. A realization that I didn't know who I was without pushing toward some goal. At first, I rationalized that I was taking time to just be me. Don't get me wrong, I needed it. My dissertation process rocked my world in ways I didn't see coming. I needed the down time. Problem is, I was anxious and depressed without having that goal to achieve. That had become so much of my identity. I didn't know what to do with myself. So many times when working with clients, I've spent time talking about how to exist in the space of peace and calm when they lived lives of chaos and trauma. Here I was, realizing I didn't have the foggiest clue how to do it. I thought I did. I am really chuckling as I look back on those conversations. I thought I knew. I had no idea. I'm slowly learning how to do that.

When Ben was born, I truly believe that God, nature, and the universe was telling me to refocus, re-assess. I needed to take a step back and look at this glorious little human and connect to what really matters. I was able to do that to a point, but I was partway through my doctoral program at that point, and we had a business that Rob was running. Things were hectic. Ben was the light though, and brought me and us moments of peace and joy that I hold onto even now. In his eyes, I'm Mommy. Most important title I've ever had. More important than Doctor.

When Evie was born, it's kind of like I was hit in the face with a two by four of "Hey! Hear me!" My perspective in so many areas has been shifting, to include taking better care of myself. Sometimes I think that I've completely put myself on the backburner, yet again. In some ways I have. In other ways, I've worked harder to take care of myself than I have in a decade or more. It started with recognizing that I wasn't okay after Evie was born and sought help from my doc. I sought out a therapist to work through the trauma I'd experienced when I thought I was going to be the reason Evie didn't survive.

I learned to be more honest with what was going on with me, even if it made people uncomfortable. Thankfully the people I tended to tell the truth to were the closest to me. Rob especially. He didn't judge. He didn't try to fix it. He just let me blow it all out so I could figure out what I needed. He's truly wonderful. My best friend. He's never once reminded me of something painful I've experienced in such a way that it was a reminder that I'm imperfect. I already know that. We've all known those that seem to enjoy reminding you of your worst moments. Like it makes them feel better about themselves to bring you down. They will remind you of your worst moments under the guise of "but look how far you've come."

That perspective has shifted since Evie was born. She is 21 months old now, as of today! That adorable little two by four. There is something about becoming a special needs mom that isn't about the mothering part, or the caring for the special needs child part. It's put the need to heal and be a better woman and a better version of myself so that I can be who Ben and Evie need me to be. Who Rob needs me to be. Who I need me to be. In that realization, I have to trudge through the junk of my inner critic's tired and painful monologue and make sure I am the best version of myself.

Part of why I'm writing this blog is to help me process all of this. I want to be raw, honest, and open about what's real. So I can see where I'm going. I imagine it's going to look like many of the expeditions undertaken by so many before me. Discovering uncharted lands. I'm giggling a little bit as I'm imagining that old Oregon Trail game I played as a kid on those bulky computers. I'll face (and already have) my own version of oxen that die, broken wagon wheels, smallpox, dysentery, frigid winters, lack of food, and raging rivers. Hmmm... I liked that game. I love my family. I love my babies. I'm learning to truly love me. I'll get there one day.

As I write, I'm noticing something I hadn't thought of in all the the times I ran through this issue in my head. Maybe there's a shift in my goals. Instead of being focused on education and career based goals, maybe it's about creating the most incredible family goals. Rob and I have always talked about giving our kids meaningful experiences, seeing different cultures, exploring the world outside of the little bit they know. We want them to see all the world has to offer and make their choices. If there is anything I want for Evie specifically, it's for her to know that there are no limits to what she is capable of, despite her diagnosis. Maybe shifting my focus to creating opportunities for my children is the path I chase.

I am a firm believer in generational thinking and trauma. In order for me to help my kids live a life focused on possibilities and less focused on an inner critic, I need to deal with mine. I need to be a better me, so I can show them how to truly love themselves.

I'm becoming a better human being because of my children. One two by four at a time.